Inspiration
by The Queen of Pecans
Summary: When tragedy strikes the Stewart household, Miley doesn't know what to do with herself, and she finds herself falling into a dangerous downward spiral. But a chance encounter by fate may be just the inspiration she's looking for. Jiley. Jake/Miley.


**Disclaimer: Hannah Montana is mine – in my dreams, that is. Sadly, in the real world, Hannah Montana belongs to Disney, not me. *sigh***

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Silence.

Silence is everything and, at the same time, silence is nothing. Nothing is said, nothing is spoken, yet everything is understood. Silence, the universal language – everyone knows its many meanings; it's easy to understand it, but everybody hates it.

Even me.

I hate silence with a passion. I've always hated it, long as I can remember. Speaking, I always thought, conveys so much more emotion – so much can be _told _through speaking. But it wasn't until this morning that I realized the true meaning of silence and just how much this nothing can really say, how much emotion, sadness, it can really hold. Because silence doesn't tell, silence _shows_.

I've always thought of myself as a very talkative person. Nothing can render me speechless – _nothing. _No piece of information is too surprising for me, no tidbit or fact or bit of bad news can set me back even in the slightest. But this morning when my dad called, rest assured, I was very much surprised; I was very much set back – much more than just a slight bit. In fact, I was rendered speechless, because I had never, ever, in a million years, expected to receive a phone call from my father at nine forty-five in the morning for the reason that I did.

"There's been an accident." Those were the first words out of his mouth once I'd been pulled out of second period to the office. A phone call from your father, they'd said. I'd figured it was a Hannah related thing – press junket, photoshoot after school, whatever.

I had not been expecting news of an accident.

I must have stood there for at least three minutes before I'd said anything. And when I did finally speak, it was something like, "What?" or "Accident?" A question – I'd thought I'd misheard. But, of course, I hadn't.

"A car accident," Dad had told me gravely, "Miley, I – I don't know how to say this."

By then I'd been anxious. "Who?" My manager? Publicist? A celebrity friend? Never in a million years did I expect the answer to come out of his mouth that did.

"Jackson."

That one word, that one name, and silence overtook me completely. He'd gone on in a blur about how he was coming to pick me up, take me to the hospital, stuff like that. I'd barely paid attention, the name, _Jackson, Jackson, Jackson_, repeating in my head. I hadn't even notice when he'd hung up and I had still been clutching the phone in my hand when dad had finally arrived.

"Miles, sweetie, come on. We have to go the hospital." I'd followed him wordlessly to the car, sat in the passenger seat and stared silently out the window as we drove to the hospital. Words weren't important, I realized, not when silence could speak so much.

We had sat in the waiting room for the longest time. It could've been seconds, minutes, hours – I can't remember; everything had blurred together. The one thing that sticks out in my mind is that moment. The one when the doctor had come out through those double doors and delivered the news that would change my life in ways I couldn't even imagine.

"I'm sorry," he'd said, and I'd known it would be bad news, "We did everything we could, but he's gone."

_Gone. Gone. Gone. _

The doctor had said some other stuff too, but I hadn't been paying attention – my head had still been echoing the words: _gone, gone, gone. _How could Jackson be gone? How could my brother be dead? How could God take from me both my mother and my brother?

Everything else had passed in a blur of driving, phone calls, casseroles, and silence. Always silence. We'd driven home, I remember, and then the neighbors had started coming – casseroles, lasagna, you name it, we got it. Phone calls, from family in Tennessee. I don't even know how everyone had heard the news, but somehow, they had. I figured dad must've told some people and word had gotten around, but that didn't matter to me – I didn't want to deal with it all, _couldn't _deal with it all.

I'd retreated to my room upstairs, slipped under the covers, and said nothing as I continued to let the silence reign. And that's where I was now – under the covers, saying nothing, still letting the silence reign.

I can hear people downstairs – murmured whispers. Smells from all the food are wafting up to my room, but for once in my life, I don't feel hungry. I just feel sad – sad and scared and shocked and silent.

After a while, though I'm not sure how long, I crawl out from under the covers and stand up. My feet pad against the soft carpet as I creep out of my room and make my way down the hallway that had once seemed so long, but now doesn't seem nearly long enough. My breath grows deeper with each step I take. Anticipation and fear build in my stomach. The door is in front of me, now, I'm nearly there, and my steps grow slower.

I stop.

_Silence_.

My breath catches in my throat and I reach a shaky hand out to grad the doorknob. I can't go in – I can't, I can't, _I can't_.

But I do.

Against everything that my logical mind is thinking, I go in. I open the door and step into Jackson's old room and look around.

It's a mess, to be sure, but I somehow can't bring myself to care. It smells exactly like him – a smell I usually detest – but today, it's the best smell in the world. I take a deep breath, inhaling, and then I let it out.

_Silence_.

I walk across his room as quietly as possible, running my hands along the dusty tops of his dresser. I pick up an old, giant shirt off the floor – it's probably dirty, but again, I don't care. I slip it on over my tank top, bringing the front of it up to my nose and inhaling. My eyes water with unshed tears and I find myself walking over to his bed.

I lie down and pull the comforter up to my chin, curling into a ball against the wall. I bury my head in his pillow – it smells like him too. In this fetal position, curled against the wall, head buried into a pillow, I finally allow some noise.

The tears are small at first, quiet, gently sliding down my cheeks one by one. But soon they turn into disastrous sobs, sobs that shake me so much that I cannot even hear myself think. I rock back and forth, knees curled up to my chest, cries spilling out of my mouth, tears staining Jackson's pillow.

Why? Why? _Why_?

Life is unfair, people have always told me, but I've never felt it more than I feel it now, never believed it more than I believe it know. Had someone told me yesterday that I my brother would be dead today, I would never have believed them.

_Yea, right_, I would've said, _And I'm the Queen of England_.

But the fact remains, now, that he is dead – the most unexpected thing in the world. Life gives and gives and gives – a loving family, lasting friends, Hannah Montana. But then it takes – it takes the biggest thing from you imaginable and, suddenly, everything that it has given you doesn't seem like enough; _nothing _can make up for what it's taken from you, nothing will _ever _make up for what it's taken.

When the tears finally subside, I sit up and climb out of Jackson's bed, pulling off the shirt and tossing it on the floor. Padding lightly across the carpet, sidestepping clothes and old pizza boxes, I make my way to the door. I flip the light off and step out of his room, glancing back once more at the mess, breathing in once more his familiar smell. Wiping the last of my tears, I shut the door.

And so begins my descent.

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**A/N: I know, I know, it's so _short_! But it was, like, a prologue, I guess. And the plot bunny for this story attacked me last night, so I just _had _to get it up as soon as possible. It totally would've been up this morning, 'cept today is Easter which meant I had to spend all day at my Grandma's, spending quality family time with all my little cousins. Yippee. [note the sarcasm].**

**So, review? *bribes with cake and/or ice cream* Pleasums and thank you!**


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